Hayden Mccain Poet I do not know?

Drifting From Dreams

Back when 
all that laid ahead 
were the unheard 
tales of time 
tensely twirling 
towards tomorrow.
Where our 
hollow heedless 
heads of hope
would wistfully 
follow.
Still strumming 
out their
stammering 
starless streams
of desolate 
undecided 
dreams.
Then bashfully
burn out 
into bittersweet 
beams of 
belittlement.

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Hayden Mccain November 12, 2022 at 5:10 PM Before growing up you had dreams that never would be fulfilled. Always your head in the clouds rather then focused on the foreboding future.